Chemistry
by Kameka
Summary: Buffy, one night late at night. A small Buffy scene written *years* ago seriously, the show was still on! – one of two I had on a saved files disk and finished up with just a couple sentences. Enjoy.


Disclaimer: not mine, no money made

Summary: Buffy, one night late at night. A small Buffy scene written *years* ago (seriously, the show was still on!) – one of two I had on a saved files disk and finished up with just a couple sentences. Enjoy.

I was writing something great with this, I think... It even had an awesome title, etc. But I have no idea where it was going. That'll teach me to ignore a fic for years, right?? Enjoy!

Chemistry

Buffy Summers sighed in disgust as she dropped the pencil she held to the crease between pages in her textbook. Her bed was soft beneath her weight where she sprawled on it and the table lamps she had scattered throughout her bedroom cast a comforting golden glow as she tried to make sense of the chemistry homework she had put off until then. For a brief moment, she considered calling Willow Rosenburg, one of her closest friends, until she remembered that the redhead was probably at band practice. Not that the shy teenager was a member of any band; no, that spot was reserved for her quiet, sometimes-werewolf boyfriend, Oz.

She sighed and looked back at the book she had abandoned. The words that always seemed to appear so straightforward to her friend were still incomprehensible gibberish to her. With another sigh, she closed the book with a snap. If asked, she could honestly say that she had not only opened the book but read the chapter that had been assigned; she would only admit that she hadn't understood a word of it if pressed.

Chemistry, who needed it? The book-type anyhow. Real-life person-to-person chemistry was fine, great, wonderful. That type of chemistry she could handle, even enjoyed.

She rolled over on her bed to stare out the open window, eyes sharpening as she took in the dark sky. It was still too early to patrol, night having fallen only a little while ago. The vampires she fought nightly were still in their crypts or, in the case of the newly sired, not yet out of their graves. It was a good thing, as the oblivious inhabitants of Sunnydale were still out-and-about in the town instead of safe in their homes. It always amazed her how people could block out what they didn't want to see.

In Los Angeles, even before she had met Merrick, she had been aware that bad things happened. It was a big city, of course they did. After meeting Merrick, when she had finally, grudgingly accepted the truth about vampires and demons and Slayers and Watchers, shivers had made their way down her spine on a nightly basis. How many of the awful things you heard on the news, things attributed to Humans, were really caused by demons? Was that better or worse? Humans could be stopped, there were laws and police officers and federal agents that worked to stop them. All things that would be pointless, helpless, in the face of what she saw and fought.

Those bad things were concentrated here in Sunnydale. Was it because the town was so much smaller? You automatically heard everything that was going on, whether you wanted to or not. Even if you attributed what happened to other things, drugs or gangs, you heard about them. How could people blame gangs when there were no gang signs, no graffiti, and no other proof of a problem? Or was it because of the Hellmouth, as Giles automatically assumed?

Why had her mother had to move them _here_ after the divorce?

As soon as the thought surfaced, Buffy pushed it back down into her mind. It wasn't her mother's fault, it was fate, destiny. As much as she fought who she was, being here, and those words... She knew that those two little words were very true and shaped her life.

Buffy Summers. The Chosen One. Vampire Slayer. Guardian of the Hellmouth.

Four titles that all meant the same thing: she belonged here.

A knock on the bedroom door broke into her thoughts. Rolling back over, Buffy quickly opened her schoolbook towards the middle and looked up to the door that was opening.

"Buffy? It's getting late; I was going to head to bed."

"Okay, Mom." Buffy flashed the older woman a rueful smile. "I'm just trying to make sense of this homework."

"Oh?" Joyce Summers ventured further into her daughter's sanctuary and gingerly sat down on the bed, careful to avoid any of the worksheets and notebooks that were spread out on the surface. "What subject?" When her daughter flipped the book over to show the cover with a grimace, Joyce laughed. "I'm sorry I can't help with it; you know how I am with math and science."

"Eh, you're strictly an artsy-type, Mom. I get it. I think I might stay late at school tomorrow; see if Willow and Giles can help with this disaster."

"Giles... Mr. Giles, the school librarian?"

Buffy, aware of some of her mother's odd vibes regarding the British librarian, nodded. "If Will can't help, he should be able to. Isn't it a rule you have to be wicked smart to be a librarian?"

Joyce chuckled and shook her head slightly. "Yes, I guess it is," she said quietly before reaching out to card her fingers through her daughter's blonde hair. "Don't stay up too late," she admonished Buffy before kissing her on the forehead and rising from the bed.

"I won't," she answered with a grin. "G'night."

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," her mother finished the childish rhyme with another chuckle as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

For a while after her mother left, Buffy remained where she was on the bed, the book still open as she tried once more to make sense of the assignment. She didn't succeed any more than she had earlier and tossed the Chemistry book aside once more with a sigh of disgust. She gave her Slayer senses reign, focusing on her hearing in an effort to see if her mother truly had fallen asleep. The house was quiet with no telltale squeaks of the bedsprings from a tossing and turning body. As quietly as she could, not wanting her mother to possibly hear anything if she was awake, Buffy pulled out the black bag that she used to carry extra stakes and holy water and opened her bedroom window, sliding into the night air and leaping from the roof to the ground in a single graceful movement.

She had given her daily life as much thought as she wanted to. Now, it was time for her nightly one. Who knows, maybe Angel was around to practice some of that person-to-person chemistry with.

A girl could only hope.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Reviews are welcome


End file.
